


Loose Ends

by OrpheusRae



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Coffee Shops, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Im a nerd leave me alone, Long-Distance Relationship, Minor gaslighting, Mutual Pining, Not an AU though, Portrait of Dorian Grey referenced a lot, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrpheusRae/pseuds/OrpheusRae
Summary: You unknowingly spilled coffee on one of the world’s most notorious criminal masterminds, completely destroying an old book he had just acquired. To apologize, you insist on at least repaying him by lending your copy of the book you’d ruined.
Relationships: Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. return

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I got hired at starbucks and couldn’t think of a prompt for Chrollo to write about. Now it’s 3am and I find myself writing the second chapter immediately. goddamnit.

Working as a barista, it’s surprisingly easy to learn people’s names and faces. If they come in often enough you can recount every detail of their regular order.

But you’ve never seen _him_ here before.

He sat in the corner booth, completely enveloped in whatever book he was reading. Dark hair fell in waves around a bandage wrapped tight around his head. It was what made him stand out when you walked into work. After all, you wouldn’t have been able to forget someone as mysterious or handsome.

Walking up with notepad and pen in hand, you hesitantly cleared your throat to get his attention. “Hello, sir, what can I get for you today?”

Your customer service routine shattered when he looked at you, big grey eyes and a soft, polite smile on his lips, “An espresso with two shots is all, thank you,”

You nodded quickly, a feint blush on your cheeks. You couldn’t trust your voice to not stutter under the pressure of his stare, so you simply nodded and hurried away behind the counter. Trying to push the idle thoughts of the customer from your mind, you let yourself get wrapped up in making the best damn espresso of your life. When it was finally done you carefully placed it on the tray, walking over to the corner booth with a smile on your flushed face.

But you were so focused on catching a glimpse of whatever book he was reading that you completely ignored the child who suddenly rushed past you as his mother called him to leave. You couldn’t help but shriek when you felt your feet trip over themselves as you tried to avoid the stampeding nine-year-old.

Your hand flailed out to grab the corner of the nearest table as you fell, gravity somehow feeling ten times heavier as the cup you were carrying spilled onto the corner table.

Wait, the corner table—

A stab of realization shot through you and you scrambled up to stand. Turning wildly to look at the bandaged customer, you saw the tell-all stain of scalding coffee covered the white fabric of his shirt, steam rising steadily off the contact.

You were horrified, hands waved wildly in front of you as you stuttered out one apology after another, “A—Are you alright? _Shit_ , um... I-I’m so sorry, sir— Full refund, no charge I—oh _god,_ ” Hastily pulling a rag from your apron, you instantly tried to soak up whatever you could from the stains on his arm. But still, after _that_ you were still a bit too mortified to look your short-lived crush in the eyes.

You were expecting him to cry out in pain or maybe yell at you for your clumsiness, but he didn’t. In fact, he hadn’t said a word yet. The stranger didn’t seem to mind having boiling coffee poured on him, all things considered. He must’ve had a truly astounding pain tolerance.

“No, It’s alright...” He muttered, looking dejectedly at the book that laid in front of him. Your heart sunk further down to your stomach when you saw the pages stained with dark coffee grounds. Frantically, you switched from trying to dry him off to trying to save his book. But it was too late. The espresso had already soiled the pages, its words completely illegible under the dark smear.

Despite that, you tried your hardest to save it, dabbing the worst pages with fistfuls of napkins. A few frustrated tears formed in your eyes once you realized there was no saving it.

Slowly, you turned back to look at him.

You wished he was upset. It would’ve been so much easier if he yelled at you. But instead he just ran his fingers over the soaked pages, a disappointed sigh leaving his lips at the loss of his book.

“I’ll buy you a new one! I-I can have it for you by tomorrow,” He shook his head, sitting up from the chair and inspecting how soaked his clothes were. It wasn’t too bad, but the stain on his sleeve would probably never fully wash out.

“No, that’s... It’s an older one. You won’t find it in a bookstore I’m afraid,” Well that made you feel worse. With shaking hands you slowly picked up the book, wincing at the drops of coffee that dripped onto the table.

But the sinking feeling in your heart froze when you saw the title. The Portrait of Dorian Grey.

“Wait, I have this book!” You looked at him, a sudden idea on how to make it up to him abundantly clear.

He seemed more surprised that you knew the novel’s name instead of having scalding coffee spilled on him.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I got it years ago from an antique shop,” An uncertain smile found its way forward despite the way your hands still shook. The book was old, like he said, written hundreds of years ago in some tiny country, but it was one of your favorites.

You looked up at him, uncertainty all across your face, “I can bring it tomorrow, if you stop by again.”

After a moment he seemed to get his bearings, staring at you with those big grey eyes, “I would appreciate that, miss...?”

That same stupid bush from before reared its ugly head, but you forced yourself from doing anything obvious like twirling your hair. The ghost of a smile fell on his pallid lips when you told him your name and he repeated it back to you like he was actively committing the syllables to memory.

He looked like he was in a fight with bandages around his head and a fresh burn on his arm, but despite that he looked almost content, “Then I’ll have to return. Though I must admit this, is an interesting way to get customers.”

The tension from the spill had felt all-consuming but the his levity lifted the weight off your shoulders, “I mean, I didn’t think I’d find someone with the same taste in books as me by sacrificing one,” you cast a forlorn glance to the wet pile of paper.

He smiled that time at your teasing, a bit brighter than before and tinged with a short laugh. It felt like an accomplishment coming from the stoic man, “Well...” He cuffed the damp sleeve of his shirt, “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” He called your name once more, and this time you’re positive he noticed the red dusting your cheeks. As he left, probably on his way to some kind of laundromat, you could only follow him with your eyes. Just as he pushed open the door, the bell’s jingle ringing in your ears, you called, “Wait!”

He turned back with his hand still on the door, head titled.

“You never told me your name,” Saying that out loud almost sounded desperate, but the stranger just smiled.

“It’s Chrollo,” he answered, before the cafe door swung closed on its creaky hinges in his wake.

You felt emotionally exhausted from the ordeal but it didn’t stop the dumb grin from spreading on your face. Even though your boss chewed you out for spilling to coffee and sent you home early you couldn’t stop smiling.

Chrollo, huh?

What an odd, beautiful name.

* * *

You tried not to make it seem too obvious that you were waiting for someone, though your coworkers were starting to notice how your craned your neck to see who walked in at the sound of the bell.

“So, who exactly do you keep looking for?” Your coworker Devan asked with a curious grin, leaning against the counters while the cafe was slow.

You groaned, knowing there was no way to keep it from him.

“Gossipy bitch, aren’t you?” You snapped, rolling your eyes at him and trying to keep yourself busy by taking care of all the tasks you usually like to put off.

“You know me,” He shrugged, following you where you walked like a lost puppy, “so really, who is it?”

Hesitating a moment, you figured he’d see him soon enough so why not get the teasing over with.

“Remember that guy I spilled coffee on yesterday?” You said quietly, no sooner had the words left you before Devan burst into laughter. The barista’s laughs went hoarse by the time he started talking again.

“How the hell did you manage that?”

Slinging the trash bag of used coffee grounds over your shoulder, you flipped you hair dramatically and spared your coworker an exaggerated, over-confident wink, “Devan? I’ve got no _fucking_ idea.”

Followed by the barista’s infectious laughter, you slung your coffee grounds into the trash, sweeping off any grounds left on your shoulder. Before you were about to head back to the register you paused when you saw your bag hung up by the sink _. ‘Guess I might as well tell Devan about the book while I’m at it,’_ you thought, retrieving the beloved novel from your bag.

But as you walked back to the storefront a certain voice made your grip on the book grow tighter and a smile spread on your face.

Devan was in the middle of talking to Chrollo, well, more like talking _at_ Chrollo. Your coworker was a gem, but sometimes he was too much of an extrovert to handle. Waving shyly, you approached the counter, seeing how your customer’s shoulders visibly relaxed when you came into view, expectantly tapping Devan on the shoulder. He took one look at the pleading expression on your face and sighed, saying a polite goodbye to Chrollo and whispering a quick _“good luck,”_ in your ear.

You cleared your throat, “Hey, uh, Chrollo,”

“It’s good to see you again. I take it that’s your copy?” He nodded to the book you’ve been clutching protectively in your arms.

“Yup! It’s _ah_... a bit worn down.” Understatement of the century. The pages were dog-eared and creased, the paper yellow with age, and you’re pretty sure you even jotted down some of your thoughts by the margins; However, the words were still as legible as the day they were printed, and for some reason that was enough to make it mean a lot to you.

Taking a deep breath, you handed him your copy of Wilde’s opus, suddenly very uncomfortable with the idea of seeing it in the hands of someone else.

He hummed, turning the cheap binding over in his palms, “Don’t worry, I promise i’ll take good care of it. as long as nobody spills any coffee on it, that is,”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands for a minute to hide from the embarrassment. You swear, if that kid ever comes in again you’re gonna have to let Devan handle it. Being fired for smacking a child upside the head isn’t exactly on your list of things to do today. Chrollo chuckled at your reaction though, so it must’ve been the one he was hoping for.

“Well, shall we?” You pulled away from you hands, not sure if you understood him right.

“Wait, what?”

He was patient with your confusion, “Well, would you like to join me? I’d like to know what you think of Dorian and Lord Henry, after all.”

It was too exciting of an opportunity to pass up. A kind, handsome stranger who shares your love of the classics? There had to be a catch somewhere down the line. Just as you looked across the counter, Devan was there very obviously listening in.

“Don’t worry, girl, I got your shift,” He sounded pretty happy to cover for you, probably because of how his constant dating advice was leading you nowhere and he was desperate for you to get laid so he could take all the credit.

Smiling, you responded to Chrollo by loosening the strings of your apron and untying your hair until it could fall free. Stepping around the gate, you both walked back to the seat he had been sitting in the day before.

Hours past, the distant chatter of the other patrons fading into obscurity as the two of you went back and forth on your opinions until the sun set. For instance, Chrollo thought that Dorian was a misunderstood protagonist, while you thought practically the opposite. But no matter what was said you never felt yourself wanting to leave. There were times when you’d speak your mind without thinking about what the symbolism in the protagonist’s painting could be and he’d look at you like you were telling him the secrets of the universe. The sun’s dying rays cast the windowpanes in saturated orange hues and you couldn’t help but admire how your company looked in the warm glow. The empty coffee cups were piling nicely beside you both and there were times were Chrollo would go on for minutes on end, only to stop abruptly when he realized he’d been rambling.

You simply told him that you liked the sound of his voice.

“Although this has been lovely, I’m afraid I must be going soon,” He murmured, but you didn’t take it personally, you had been here for hours after all.

“That’s alright! Maybe sometime next week we could do this again?” Chrollo didn’t respond and for some reason the friendly atmosphere that had kept you two safe turned sour.

He paused, his eyes staring into yours, “No, I’ll be leaving for about a month or so, perhaps longer.”

“Oh...” You couldn’t back hold the sadness in your tone. You’d just met him, this incredible mystery that you had clicked so well with, and already he had to leave. Rotten luck, you guess. Looking between him and the book, you had an idea.

“Keep it, then,” He followed your stare and looked puzzled at the offer, uncertainly muttering your name.

You straightened up in your chair, taking a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “I’ve had that book for almost a decade now, but I haven’t ever talked about it... with anyone really. And I _want_ you to hold onto it. I trust you’ll take care of it Chrollo,” For the first time that day he didn’t have anything to say, simply listening to you with an odd look of fascination.

“Besides,” you tried to cheer yourself up, not wanting to leave a sad impression of yourself in his mind, “Now you have a reason to come back, right? To return it.”

The smile on his face was the most genuine one you’d seen that night. You didn’t even try to deny the butterflies that flew from your chest when you saw it. It made you proud, almost, to count yourself as someone lucky enough to see it.

“A reason to return, hm?” He whispered so quietly that you barely heard it, and before you could follow him he’d stood up from his seat beside the table, your beloved copy of Dorian Grey tucked safely under his arm.

“Then I’ll be seeing you in a month or so, my dear,” The endearment made what you felt for him real, but it wasn’t all. 

Slowly, like he was giving you ample time to pull away, he took your hand in his. Something as simple as holding your hand shouldn’t’ve made your breathing hitch, but to Chrollo and you it felt like much more. Moments fled by like minutes as he brought your hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as you felt his breath fan over your knuckles before kissing the back of your hand so carefully; It was almost like he was worried you would shatter if he did anything more.

“Until then,” He spoke once more before letting your hand fall limp again the table. Just as he reached the door and the jingling bell brought you to your senses, you turned back in your seat for one more look at him. Chrollo had done the same, seemingly as lost in his own thoughts as he was yesterday when you met him.

“Until then.”

The sound of that door closing never felt so loud before.


	2. the date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After returning from his business trip, Chrollo takes you to dinner to explain what he is and what he does, the false versions, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooo boy this ended up being a long’un. but hey at least theres porn now.

Weeks passed. Not a day went by without you thinking of your mysterious visitor, and sometimes when a customer would order an espresso you felt an odd twinge in your heart, casting a glance at the empty table where the two of you sat. Little did you know that far soon than you thought, that pain would finally ease.

It hadn’t even been a month when he came back.

The door’s ringing barely caught your attention and you responded with a routine, “Welcome in, what can I—“

But there he stood in the doorway, bathed in the late rays of the setting sun, your copy of Dorian Grey in hand.

“Chrollo!” You exclaimed before the stares of the other patrons made you cough nervously, trying to keep your voice to yourself, “It’s good to see you again.”

That frail smile of his was a sight for sore eyes, “You too. Though are you sure you didn’t just miss this?” He held up your book for emphasis.

“Both,” He almost looked surprised by your honesty, “I thought you said you’d be gone for a month?”

Chrollo picked his words carefully, “My business trip finished up early, so I thought I’d return a bit sooner rather than later. I hope you don’t mind,”

“Not at all,” You grinned, way too delighted just by hearing the sound of his voice again.

“Tell me, what time does your shift end?”

Deftly untying your apron, you shoved it underneath the counter, thankful that he’d come in just as your shift was getting off, “You’re in luck, I’m actually just about to clock out.”

Before you could walk over to the booth you’d sat at before, his words stopped you.

“In that case would you like to get dinner?” You froze mid-step, the implications of his request both exciting and terrifying. You must’ve looked like a deer in headlights to him, all wide-eyed and disbelieving.

“Now?”

“When else?”

“But I just got off work, and...” suddenly each bit of grime and sweat that’d built up through the day felt worse, especially compared to Chrollo. He seemed to be carved from marble, not a hair out of place or wrinkle present in his dark button-down.

He scoffed, “If that’s the only thing stopping you, then I assure you there’s nothing to worry about.”

Internally you were screaming. The idea that he’d ask you out now of all times was nerve-wracking, but you couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes of his.

“Only if it’s not anywhere fancy,” you mumbled.

He smiled, though something seemed pained in his glance, “I assure you, It’s nothing too extravagant.”

Chrollo offered you his hand, taking yours in his before you could change your mind, and suddenly you were reminded of the night he’d left and your knuckles hummed with warmth at the thought of his lips on them again.

“Shall we?”

* * *

As soon as he pulled into the valet parking you were almost fuming.

“You promised nothing too fancy, Chrollo, I’ll stick out like a sore thumb here,” The idea of all those eyes on you had your stomach turning.

You couldn’t help but jump when his hand found its place on your jeans, lightly brushing his thumb over the denim, and suddenly you couldn’t think of anything but him.

“I already made reservations before I asked you here tonight,” Your mouth parted in shock, washe really that confident in himself?

A few stuttered noises escaped you before you could manage to speak, “What if I said no?”

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “I guess we’ll never know.”

With that the car came to a stop in front of the entrance and when his hand left your thigh you couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. Chrollo quickly handed a few notes to the valet driver before walking beside you, his arm extended.

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit in disbelief at the sheer grandiosity of the past hour, but something still lingered; A nagging doubt that kept you on your toes. Just who was Chrollo? What kind of job would make him leave for months on end and come back with what to you looked like a fortune? Looking into his unreadable eyes, a distant quote scratched at the back of your head, hesitantly linking your arm with his.

_“He is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,”_

The polished glass doors parted before you to reveal a middle-aged receptionist hidden behind a small table, a stack of menus at his side. The floors were a rich red fabric that made you paranoid about leaving any dirt behind from underneath the worn soles of your boots and the walls were fitted with an old-fashion wallpaper, accented with stone pillars at each corner.

“Reservation for two? it’s under Lucilfer,” _That_ got your attention. Sure, Chrollo wasn’t a common name but Lucilfer? Did he just happen to have surname modeled after satan or did he pick it himself for some reason? Either way it somehow fit him perfectly, and within no time the receptionist spotted his name on his sheet of guests, bowing slightly before asking the two of you to follow him.

The receptionist led you two through an archway into what must’ve been the most lavish restaurant you’d ever seen in your life. It was horrifying. Everyone you saw was draped in pearls and flattering dresses, meanwhile all you had on was a black sweater and jeans. Their judgmental eyes followed you and your grip on Chrollo’s arm tightened.

He fixed his gaze on you, perceptive to a fault, “Don’t be afraid, love, they’re not worth the thought,”

Your pulse was pounding in your ears as he whispered; you were surprised that Chrollo couldn’t hear it given how close he hovered to your neck. You tried in vain to follow his advice but how could you concentrate on anything when he said things like _that?_

After what felt like hours your waiter finally showed you to your table, a two seated set beside a looming iron-gilded window.

You were sure to pull out your chair yourself before Chrollo could get a chance to, because it seemed like the type of princely thing he’d pull to make you a stuttering mess. You were starting to wonder if he was some kind of sadist.

As the receptionist scurried off there was nothing to distract you from the man across the table, the snide glares of the other patrons rolling off you like water.

“Not so bad I hope?”

You shook your head, taking in the surroundings along with a few deep breaths, “No, It’s just a bit overwhelming,”

“I see,” Chrollo hummed in understanding, handing you one of the glossy menus and gesturing to one of the other tables, “Unfortunately I meet people like _them_ more often than not in my line of work.”

His gaze turned sharp and oddly still, before reaching into his suit pocket and revealing what looked like a small credit card. Tentatively, you took it from his outstretched hand. Only when you saw the red diamond and two black Xs did you know what you were holding.

Your eyes shot open, looking back from him to the card and back again.

“You’re a _hunter?”_ You gaped, your brain having difficulties tying the hunter association’s elites with the soft-spoken man who read Oscar Wilde in a run-down coffee shop.

He nodded, his posture relaxing, “I’m an Antiques Hunter. I usually don’t stay in one city too long before I have to leave,”

You were slowly wrapping your head around the news when you realized that you were basically holding the equivalent of _six billion jenny._ The shock made you shove the card back into his hands, stunned into silence. You might’ve guessed that Chrollo had a strange job, but this was something else.

But then why did it feel like you were missing something?

“Well, are you going to keep interrogating me, or would you like to have dinner first?” You snorted, thankful for him at least trying to lighten the mood.

You instinctively flinched at the price tags beside each dish, constantly telling yourself that money was never an issue for a hunter, if Chrollo’s lascivious taste said anything else. After a bit of debate you picked out the most recognizable and pronounceable meal you could find, while your partner ordered a rare steak with some kind of foreign red wine.

“So when will you have to leave again for your next...” you struggled to find the right words, “hunting trip?”

“Two weeks or so. I’ll be flying to the Lurka ruins for an excavation.” He handed off your menus to the waiter and within moments someone had arrived with an unopened bottle of wine. Popping the cork, your glasses were filled halfway, and with a weird hand gesture Chrollo had the waiter leaving behind the bottle.

“Well, what will you do for the next two weeks?” He seemed thankful you didn’t press him on his work, it must have to be secretive if he’s a hunter.

His gaze flickered over to yours as he raised the glass to his lips, never breaking eye contact, “That depends on you. This trip will be a longer one, I’m afraid, and I may not see you again for a while.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at that, bringing up your own drink and taking a deep drink, downing nearly half. When you set it back down on the table you didn’t expect to see Chrollo’s eyes raised at the shot you took of wine.

“...I’m not supposed to do that, am I?” He laughed, honest-to-god _laughed,_ and the sound was so like him. Breathy but deep, more stunned than anything as you flushed red in embarrassment.

His laugh was abruptly cut short, your notion so sincere it unnerved him.

“I don’t find myself able to often,” he mused, almost to himself, before looking up at you with a vulnerable softness to his eyes, “but perhaps I should.”

All at once the tone of the air shifted, what warmth laid in those grey pools drained of color, and Chrollo went completely rigid. You were confused, was something wrong? Suddenly he flicked his gaze to yours, his mouth a straight line, giving nothing away. It was starting to scare you.

“Chrollo?”

A voice echoed from above you, “Well, what a surprise. I finally found you, _spider.”_

Standing beside the tablecloth was an older, burly man with rough skin and twitching fingers stood even taller than Chrollo, a burning hatred in his eyes.

The shadows of you date’s face fell darkly as he met the man’s stare.

“Do I know you?” His voice sounded wrong, different somehow. Like it was a rehearsed line from a stage show, brimming with falsity.

You couldn’t stop the shrill squeak that left, muffled by your hand cupped over your mouth as the man slammed a fist down on the table, nearly shattering the pressed wood.

“You know d _amn well_ who I am.” All conversation in the restaurant died instantly. The eyes of frightened socialites wide at the loud bang. Your breathing was shaky, but you couldn’t take your eyes off Chrollo, desperate for a sign, a hint that everything would be okay.

Slowly, your date rose to his feet, even if he was shorter than whoever kept harassing him, he didn’t look at all concerned.

Standing below him, Chrollo finally spoke up, “We can take this elsewhere.”

“Fine by me. I wouldn’t want to kill anyone but you.”

Tears were caught in your eyelashes, voice shaking as you asked, “Chrollo, what—“

“Stay here,” He spared you one last glance, “I’ll be back soon.”

The two of them left, Chrollo walking ahead and not looking back. Nobody stopped them oreven said a word as they left the building. All at once, the volume increased. Dramatic murmurs and phone calls making your head ache.

You slumped into your chair, hugging your arms to yourself to try and feel safe again. What just happened? Immediately a waitress came over, a younger one with worry written all over her face.

“Miss, are you alright?” She outstretched her hand and you took it gratefully, thankful to have an anchor in the sea.

As the moments dragged on you made best friends with the abandoned bottle of wine, which had escaped unscathed. Drinking might not’ve been the best solution but it was somehow what you needed. Your breathing went steady as you poured yourself another glass, trying to think of anything other than who used to be sitting in the empty chair across you.

Your silence wasn’t going to go on for much longer, because only ten minutes after he’d left, Chrollo walked through the door. The relief caught you by surprise, wrecking your energy as he returned to the table, unfazed as if nothing ever happened.

“I’m truly sorry for this, I owe you an explanation, my dear,” He said your name so despondently and you were having none of it.

You shook your head, inadvertently making your vision spin from the drinks, “No, just.. what _happened?_ Are you alright?”

He scoffed at your concern, “No, I just had to restrain him for the police, we should probably get going, love,” you nodded, thankful for the idea of talking with him alone instead of among a crowd. You noticed that he seemed as healthy as he’d left, scribbling down a check in messy penmanship.

Taking your arm as you stood from the chair, he rested his hand around your waist as he led you through the doorway, the distant sounds of the lively city felt comforting to your drunken mind. The car was already pulled up when he opened the passenger’s seat, you crawled in with your legs tucked awkwardly against the seat, too confused and tipsy to care about manners.

Soon the restaurant was in your rear-view mirror, and you turned to look at your driver.

“Talk,”

He never took his eyes off the road while he spoke, “Hunters acquire enemies through their work. That man was a client that felt I didn’t do a good enough job on an assignment. He must’ve thought that being stronger would help him, I suppose.”

You climbed up into the seat as best you could, clutching your head with a wince, Chrollo immediately asking, “Are you drunk?”

You couldn’t hold his gaze after that question, basically confirming his suspicions.

“I’m a nervous drinker,” You pouted, and without thinking you reached a hand over along the forearm of his sleeve, undeniably needy for physical contact, “and you _scared_ me, Chrollo.”

As you came to an intersection he finally met your sight, taking in the flushed mess that you wore so beautifully, eyes glossy with unshed tears. It was all he could do to not reach over and pull you to him, but he knew he couldn’t. Not now at least.

“Where do you live?” Holding the bridge of your nose, you recited the address perfectly, but still overthought about whether or not it was right.

“That’s... quite far. How is it you live an hour away from the city?” You were far too drunk to answer the question you’d been asking yourself even since the bullet train was installed, simply mumbling a string of nonsense as you held on to him for stability.

He took your hand away from him, setting it back on your thigh, but he didn’t pull away. The drunken blush spread to your nose at the warmth, “I need to ask you something,” he tightened his grip, calling your name to get your attention. The action sent a rush of warmth through your body and settled in your stomach, making you almost rub your thighs together to relieve the pressure.

_“Hmm?”_

“My hotel is five minutes away, if you would be comfortable with it, you could stay the night with me.” It was honestly a miracle that he had no bad intentions, because if he had you would’ve been easy pickings with how easily you nodded yes.

You almost caught the smile on his pale lips after you agreed, and soon enough you were pulling into the hotel, Chrollo kind enough to help you to your feet and guide you forward. You suppose that substituting dinner with wine wasn’t the best idea in hindsight.

The elevator’s pull upwards made you clutch onto his chest for balance, swaying unsteadily. Heran a hand through your hair that was still messy from work, taking solace in the smell of burnt coffee.

Once the elevator came to his floor he took you before a tall door, swiping a keycard beside it before pushing open. The main room’s wall made of windows that overlooked the glowing lights of the city below, almost making you dizzy.

But you couldn’t enjoy the sight as Chrollo was leading you towards his bedroom. The insinuation made you think back to his grip on your thigh, feeling you through the denim. An ache between your legs was getting too hard to ignore, especially when he guided you to lie down on the bed.

You groaned childishly, clutching around his neck to keep him from pulling away, too comfortable in the blanket of his arms.

He said your name sternly, “Let go,” With a strength far from your own he took your hands away and kept them at your sides.

Chrollo left you on the mattress as he kneeled down to unlace your boots, pulling them off your feet and keeping them beside the bed. You, on your elbows, looked down at him, the intoxication making you flush from the sight of your date between your legs.

Once he removed your other shoe he caught your gaze, pausing once he came to that same conclusion. In the dim light of the master bedroom you could’ve seen the faintest rush of color beneath his pale skin.

He instantly tried to stand and move from that spot, but without thinking you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

_“Stay,_ Chrollo,” Conflict waged in his eyes, debating with himself whether or not he would follow your lead.

The hunter shook his head, “You’re drunk—“

“—You’re _beautiful,”_ he was stunned into silence. His stare finally flicking down to the bare skin visible beneath the tousled sweater.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped when you brought him closer towards you until you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

Chrollo squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a gravelly curse under his breath before finally moving up from your legs. In an instant he was on you, his lips cool against yours as his hands grasped at your bunched up shirt, yanking it above your head and throwing it elsewhere, fingers deftly unlatching your bra, never breaking his bruising kiss while pinching the soft flesh of your tits.

Chrollo was greedy, forcing your body to bend in any way he wished. He kissed down your neck, sucking on the skin until you dug your hands into his hair, moaning at the tingly sensation.

“I wanted to wait,” He muttered the words into your neck and you yelped from his teeth biting down, “But you couldn’t, could you? So _desperate,”_

“Don’t tease me, Chrollo,” You pleaded, rolling against his cock, slick pooling in your jeans.

He grabbed your waist, halting your motions and glowering up at you, “Are you that needy for me?”

You nodded, unashamed, “Need you _in me,_ Chrollo—”

You cried out when he pinched your nipples and rolled them between his fingers, drawing as many breathy gasps as he could before his kisses travelled across your collarbone. He locked eyes with yours as he wrapped his tongue around the pebbled skin, watching closely for whatever reaction you’d grant him.

“Not yet,” As his teeth bit into the sensitive bud you yanked on his hair hard, arching into his mouth while his hands stayed busy. One fell to your jeans, working off the metal buttons. You only realized what he was doing when the sound of your zipper cut through the air.

“I still need to have you for myself first,” Soon you in nothing but black lace panties as you rutted against him in any way you could, absolutely shameless from the drinks.

His mouth parted as he took in your form, chest heaving and body trembling beneath him. It felt good, it felt _right._

“And I’ve been dying to taste you,” Your panties must’ve been ruined by now, the deep tremor in his voice turning your legs to jelly.

Chrollo’s lips fell down to your stomach, kissing a path until they met the soft lace. His eyes never leaving yours, his teeth pulled them below your thighs, and you bent your legs up so he could slide them away. It was intoxicating, the steady heat in his eyes blazing as every slow movement looked like living sin.

Before you could close them, he gripped each of your calves and spread your legs wide, ignoring how the stretch made you yelp. It was almost unnerving to see the stoic man come undone, his breathing heavy and sweat beading underneath his bandaged forehead.

Why on _earth_ was he still wearing that thing?

“Look at you...” He whispered, not blinking once as he took in the sight of your dripping pussy under him, “such a _mess_ for me,”

“Please, Chrollo, I _want_ you,” You tried in vain to close your legs, or at least pull him closer, but you couldn’t budge. His grip was pure steel and you knew that if you wanted him, you’d have to do things his way.

He sighed, “Want me to what? _Ask_ me, sweetheart,”

Dignity was left behind three drinks ago, and you didn’t hesitate before looking up at him, glossy eyes and trembling words, “I want you to eat me out, Chrollo. I need it, so just _plea—“_

The sensation of his tongue on your aching clit was maddening, hands moving forward to press your thighs down so he could work.Your hands wound themselves in his blackened hair, not daring to tug on it without cause.

_“God,_ Chrollo,” His lips quirked into a smile as he ran a strip down your folds, groaning at the sweet taste. How could he have ever denied himself this?

He darted his tongue into you and the noises it wrought were far from decent. However, as your hands carded into the soft strands, you felt the ridge of bandages tucked around his head. Cautiously, you tugged him upwards, calling his name seriously to get his attention.

The sight of his chin shiny with your slick was something you’d never forget, but you couldn’t let it distract you from your question, “Can I take it off?”

He felt you toy with the edge of the bindings and seemingly contemplated the thought, before nodding silently.

Trying to not let your elation show too easily, you didn’t spare any time trying to undo his knot, simply pulling it up until the cloth slipped away. The lights were dim, but you could see more and more of what he was hiding as the bandage slipped between your fingers.

A crescent cross tattoo sat on his forehead, sending your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. You were fully expecting a disfiguring scar or injury, but certainly not a tattoo.

He didn’t spare you any time to think, diving back into the nectar between your thighs. Your thumb rubbed over the exposed ink of his face as he tugged his tongue onto your clit. Faintly you began to notice the budding heat in your stomach, the coil tightening each time Chrollo would you up.

“Fuck, I’m... I’m close, Chrollo, don’t stop—“ Your thighs spasmed at the angle and you knew you’d be incredibly sore tomorrow, though that goes without saying.

You tried to pull him closer, heaving breaths of air as he ate you like a man starved.

His tongue arched inside of you, a whorish moan escaping your lips as his elbow supported your thigh, his hand pressing into your stomach as his fingers rubbed quick circles onto your clit.

You didn’t last long, coming undone with a blinding hot flash of pleasure snapping inside your gut, a shout of his name music to his ears as his tongue stretched you open.

Your tendons ached as he let his hold on your legs go, alcohol still coursing through your veins as you turned to your side, curling into the pillow and panting with exertion.

Eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath, you missed the way Chrollo stared at you. A foreign warmth to his lifeless eyes, burning with unanswered questions. He was painfully hard, straining against the fabric of his suit. A part of him he’d never fed before wanted him to tear his bindings off and take you feral and fast until he’d finally find release inside your velveteen body. He’d fuck you like he’d been fantasizing these past two weeks until you were begging for him to cum inside of you.

But as he crawled up your naked body, he noticed how oddly calm your breathing had become. Flicking up to your face, he stared incredulously as you burrowed into the plush of the pillow, softly snoring with a satisfied smile on your face.

He almost laughed, but it might’ve woken you, and that was the last thing he wanted. Chrollo soothed his fingers over your sweaty skin, still smelling like coffee but much more now like sex. As softly as he could, he pulled the scattered covers over your bare body and you instantly cozied into the blankets.

The sight sent a horrifying warmth through his chest, and he left before he did anything reckless.

The air of the hallway felt cold compared to his bedroom, but Chrollo had to get a hold of himself. He’d take her home in the morning and that’d be the end of it, for now at least, but he still had something to take care of.

Palming himself through the material of his pants made a soft groan ripple through his chest as he leaned against the door, thinking of the delicious taste of your pussy, how soft your cries were for him. He’d been with women before, either for information or as a way to steal their nen, but the honest plea in your eyes when you asked to see his tattoo and the feeling of you running your fingertips over the ink as he devoured you was something new. Something intimate and dangerous.

He was the leader of the phantom troupe. That was all he truly knew for certain. He couldn’t let himself become addicted to the vulnerable girl that slept soundly in his bed. You were only abad habit, something he needed to quit, but Chrollo couldn’t help himself when he saw the needy tremble in your grasp.

If he wanted something, he’d _take_ it.

His erection waned as he focused on whatever awful thoughts he could come up with. The death of his spiders, flies on corpses, the stench of a battlefield after a fight, anything to keep him sane.

Eventually he felt composed enough to walk into the living room, pouring himself a rather tall glass of bourbon as he dialed a number into the burner phone he kept on hand.

Not a second ring had past before the cheerful voice on the other end came to his ear.

_“Hey, boss, what do you need?”_ Shalnark, loyal to a fault, didn’t spare any pretenses before offering his services.

“I had to leave a corpse behind tonight, someone with a grudge against us interrupted my dinner and I left him in the alley behind Earlson’s, would you dispose of it for me?” As he took a sip the harsh amber taste of whiskey burned down his throat, the pain feeling grounding and thick.

The manipulator hummed happily, _“Sure thing, I’ll get going—”_

“Oh, and Shalnark,” He held up the hunter’s license he’d brought with him into the moonlight, “Your license paid off well in my mission, thank you for lending it to me. I’ll get it back to you soon enough.”

_“Not a problem, I was worried that you’d have a problem since it’s not registered to you,”_

Chrollo spared a glance down the hall before tucking the card back into his pocket, “All that mattered was that I had one with me. It was invaluable.”

_“Glad to hear it, boss, I’ll go clear the evidence.”_ With that the line disconnected, and Chrollo tossed the device into the garbage along with the others.

His night with you had almost been ruined by that vengeful idiot. If he’d given you any more hints to who he really was, he’d lose you. And as much as it pained him to admit it he would probably have to kill you if you ever learned the truth.

Chrollo traced his arm through the fabric of his shirt, the No. 0 tattoo imbedded into his forearm surrounded by the eight jagged limbs. He’d given every single spider their tattoo himself, not excluding his own, and while he swore by the brands, they were a dead give-away. He never thought that the marking would come back to haunt him in this way, but here he was.

If he were to spend another vulnerable night with you he’d have to keep it bound with bandages like his cross and refuse to reveal it, leaving no chance for you to recognize what it meant.

He couldn’t let that happen. He _wouldn’t._

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is all for establishing stuff. This was originally gonna be like a paragraph of backstory but I got way too into it. I just wanna go on a book date with chrollo is that so much to ask??


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